


high hopes

by themorninglark



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Some references to the prequel manga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 04:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10959777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/themorninglark
Summary: Shuuji tilts his head to hide his smile. The pavement is hot, hot beneath his feet, and the burn is sweet in his calves. When Kaoru reaches out, a fingertip ahead of Shuuji to touch the lamppost at the end of the road, he turns back with a triumphant grin; Shuuji, ever the gracious loser, settles for looking away in a huff, and back again when Kaoru’s distracted.“Maybe you won’t always be here,” Shuuji murmurs.





	high hopes

**Author's Note:**

> for reon ♥ i hope you like it!
> 
> title: [high hopes by kodaline](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4povfmX144)

 

 

Kaoru leaves as suddenly as he comes, and Shuuji doesn’t even have time to miss him.

When he gets home, he closes the door behind him with a muffled _thud_ , puts his sneakers neatly away in their usual spot, and takes off his jacket. It is then that he notices Kaoru left his behind, all rumpled and smelling of grass and sweat. There it is, in a heap on top of the shoe rack because Kaoru never remembers to hang it up where it’s supposed to go, on the peg next to Shuuji’s. Natsu even made a sticker with his name on it.

 _Kaoru, you idiot._ On the tip of Shuuji’s tongue, he swallows the familiar admonition and presses his lips together, sighs and picks up the jacket.

He has never been to Hokkaido. He hears it is cold in April, still.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"How far is it to Higashikawa?"

"Dunno,” says Kaoru.

They’re whipping down the street. The wind nips at Shuuji’s ankles, and the cicadas are a symphony all around them, a high-strung longing hum that makes him glance up into the trees. Kaoru is neck and neck with him. Shuuji knows he’ll lose steam soon, that his pace will run him down before they reach the next block, but for now, _for now_ —

He puts on an extra burst of speed before he can regret it.

"You came all this way, and you don't know."

"Yeah."

Shuuji can’t help laughing, though it comes out a strangled sound in between breaths.

“That's just like you, Kaoru.”

Kaoru shrugs. “Why do I need to know, anyway? I made it here, right?“

Shuuji tilts his head to hide his smile. The pavement is hot, hot beneath his feet, and the burn is sweet in his calves. When Kaoru reaches out, a fingertip ahead of Shuuji to touch the lamppost at the end of the road, he turns back with a triumphant grin; Shuuji, ever the gracious loser, settles for looking away in a huff, and back again when Kaoru’s distracted.

“Maybe you won’t always be here,” Shuuji murmurs.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” Shuuji says quickly, but Kaoru’s gaze stays on him as the lights blink on overhead.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Natsu takes one look at him, hands him a knife, and tells him to get to work on the potatoes. They are already peeled, she says, and washed, and Shuuji knows the drill, even if it’s been a long time.

Shuuji does not think to complain. He moves mechanically, slipping into his old place next to the spice cabinet. As he hefts their solid wood chopping board off the shelf, he thinks, it’s not as heavy as he remembers; realises with quiet startlement that perhaps he is stronger now.

The thought sits funny in his stomach. He is petulant, he knows, about accepting truths.

“Where do you think he is now?" asks Natsu as she stirs the pot.

"I don't know. Somewhere near Sendai, maybe."

It is warm in the kitchen, warmer still with the water coming to a boil, and it smells like caramelised onions and pickled ginger and Sunday afternoons stretched out like a long, lazy yawn. Natsu steps back from the stove, crosses the narrow space to open the windows. The spring breeze takes its capricious time drifting in, a pink-tinged hug that curls itself round Shuuji and tickles his nose, brushes his cheek and then goes away again.

Shuuji looks up.

“He said something really lame to me at the bus station.”

“When is that guy _not_ lame? What did he say?”

“That it doesn’t matter if we’re apart. As long as we’re both playing soccer under the same blue sky, we’ll be connected,” Shuuji recites, word for word.

It’s not like he particularly tried to commit Kaoru’s half-assed farewell to memory. He finds, to his annoyance, that it is stuck rattling round in his head nonetheless.

Natsu turns an undignified snort into a laugh at the last moment.

“He just doesn’t want to admit he’ll miss you,” she tells Shuuji.

Shuuji slides a little pile of perfectly diced potatoes to one side of the chopping board.

“He’ll miss your curry,” he says.

Natsu gives Shuuji a squeeze on the shoulder, turns back to the simmering pot. From their living room, Shuuji hears the crackle and the static of the radio start up as their grandfather switches it on, to the jazzy riff of an old, nostalgic song.

It’s not until the electric guitar kicks in that Shuuji realises it’s a cover version by some punk-rock band that Kaoru’s always blasting from his headphones, and it doesn’t sound half bad.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He looks it up later, takes a screenshot of Google Maps and sends Kaoru the picture.

> _it’s more than 800 miles._

As expected, Kaoru doesn’t reply right away. Shuuji tosses his phone to one side, picks up the tennis ball on his bedside table and goes out to his backyard. He bounces the ball off the wall a few times, lets it drop to the ground and toes it upward with one foot, then another, keeping it afloat the way he’d learned from watching Kaoru. He counts to two hundred and then flops back onto the grass.

“I’m bored,” he says aloud, to no one in particular. The crickets chirp back at him.

The sky is dark now, a patchwork of telephone wires that buzz in the night. There are no stars to be seen in Tokyo, but the lights make a pattern anyway, little pulses and signals that stitch constellations into a sleepless echo, a reaching call that spreads out as far as Shuuji can see.

After his shower, Shuuji checks his phone again. Kaoru’s finally replied. 

> _whoa, really???? that’s… far…_
> 
> _it’s like. 10000 times the length of a football pitch_
> 
> _shuuji u know im bad at math dont confuse me_
> 
> _you’re the one who cycled that far, stupid_

(Shuuji doesn’t add, _to find me_.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

When he wakes in the morning, he's greeted by a text that came in at 3 AM, and he reads it several times over before moving it into a folder marked _idiot kaoru_. 

> _i think i could run the length of a football pitch 10000 times_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tsukamoto Tsukushi is in his third year now, and every time Shuuji sees him, he can’t help but feel a little bit smug that he played and beat this kid back when he was a rank amateur and they both nearly got shut out of the pitch for being too short, because no one would make that mistake now.

“Why do you keep growing taller?” Shuuji grumbles, pointedly fixing his gaze straight ahead.

“I’m sorry!” Tsukamoto yelps.

“You should be!”

“I’m still one of the shortest players on my team, Narukami-san…”

Shuuji grins. “Good. Let them underestimate you.”

He doesn’t have to glance up to know that Tsukamoto gets it. That spark of determination in his eyes, the flint and steel that Shuuji first glimpsed two years ago, has blossomed into something more, as he’d always sensed it would.

“Thanks for coming to see our game last week!”

“It’s fun watching you and Kazama,” says Shuuji. “Come to my university, okay?”

“Um, I’ll do my best but I don’t know about Kazama-kun, he’s really smart, he’s the top student in our year and he has all kinds of offers—“

Shuuji puffs his cheeks out indignantly. “What, so a local university isn’t good enough for him?”

“That’s not—Narukami-san, I mean, uh—“

“You won’t be sticking together?”

Tsukamoto, to Shuuji’s surprise, smiles.

“Of course I’d like to. But Kazama-kun is amazing. He can do anything. So… I think he should do whatever he wants. Isn’t that how you felt about Indou-san?”

“No,” Shuuji mutters. The protest is half-hearted, and Tsukamoto probably knows it too, so Shuuji shuts up before he puts his foot any further in his mouth.

The train rumbles past a sea of billboards, splashed haphazard against the glorious mess that is the inner city’s skyline. The suited salaryman standing in front of them is nodding off. Tsukamoto fidgets and reaches up to grab a handhold. Shuuji stays still and steady, pressing his weight into his heels and back.

He does not remember when taking the train stopped being an uphill task. Somewhere along the way, it had become commonplace, a part of his daily routine that he took for granted. Still, he is grateful now for the times he does not have to ride it alone.

“I don’t know what Kaoru’s up to in Hokkaido,” he finally says, breaking the silence, “but if he’s found a better partner than me, I’m going to kill him.”

Tsukamoto, flustered, turns, trips over his words in his hurry to reassure Shuuji.

“Ah, I really don’t think Indou-san would ever—!”

“Well, maybe I’ll just kill him anyway the next time I see him,” Shuuji muses, smiling sweetly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_I don’t believe in looking back, Shuuji._

Kaoru _would_ be the one to make a grandiose declaration like that, and he would make it casually, easily, resting against the goalpost with his arms crossed, that jacket of his tied round his waist in a sloppy knot.

Shuuji, light as an exhale, dribbled the ball over to him, and Kaoru caught it effortlessly with a flick of his boot.

_So?_

_So. It doesn’t matter, things like where we came from, what you went through, how long we waited. You’re here now. I found you. We’re standing on the same pitch._

Kaoru would be the one to talk big, but Shuuji would be the one to lean over brashly, grab Kaoru’s hand and tug him off-balance. It was always Shuuji, only Shuuji, who could catch Kaoru by surprise like that.

The ball rolled out unnoticed from under Kaoru’s foot, and neither of them went after it.

 _Grass and sweat,_ Shuuji remembers on hindsight.

 

 

 

_**(back to where we started)** _

 

Autumn comes and goes, and it’s on a particularly bracing morning that Shuuji unearths the red scarf Natsu made for him, tucks it snug round his neck and opens the door, only to find Indou Kaoru standing there.

He shuts the door immediately, slides the bolt back into place with a loud, obnoxious _click_ , and turns around without a word.

“Oi! Shuuji!” Kaoru calls. "I know you're there!"

“What are you doing here?” Shuuji shouts back.

“What does it _look_ like! Open the door!”

Shuuji hums tunelessly as he bends down, takes his time unlacing his shoes. He straightens, zips up his jacket and wanders into his kitchen in search of a tall glass of warm water. When he’s done gulping it down, he cleans out the glass, thinks better of it, and has another drink before going out to the front door again.

He nudges it aside a small crack and peers out to make sure this is not some weird fever dream, before pulling it all the way open.

“Oh. You’re still here.”

"Your hair," is all Kaoru manages to sputter out before his mouth falls open, gaping.

Shuuji runs his fingers through his long bangs, lets them sweep down across one cheek. "I asked _nee-chan_ to stop cutting it for now... does it look funny?"

“No,” says Kaoru. “It looks cool.”

“Coming from you, that means it looks funny,” Shuuji mumbles. “When did you arrive in Tokyo?”

“Just. I mean, last night. I slept at the bus station because I didn’t want to wake you and Nacchan up. I forgot my keys.”

“Is that why you look terrible?” Shuuji asks.

Kaoru squints at his reflection in the window. “I don’t look _that_ bad.”

Shuuji snorts disdainfully and wrinkles his nose at Kaoru.

He holds his ground, doesn’t step back. Not yet. It’s biting cold out, and Kaoru’s a sight, but he can deal for a minute longer; Shuuji has been waiting all this while, and he never had Kaoru’s patience. A thousand questions flood his mind, burn the back of his throat. He itches to blurt all of them out. _Why did you leave? Why did you come back? What have you been doing? Have you been playing? Who have you been playing with?_

But as he meets Kaoru’s gaze, disarming and direct, even the frost that lingers on the front doorstep seems to melt. There is a sun-kissed sky above them that sings, and the melody is clear and blue.

In the end, Shuuji settles for, “What happened to not looking back? I thought you didn’t believe in it.”

“I don’t. I looked forward.” Kaoru scratches his head, frowns like it ought to be obvious. “And it brought me back. See?”

Shuuji stares. “You’ve been hanging out too much with Mizuki-san. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kaoru groans. “That’s the worst insult. Thanks, Shuuji.”

Shuuji smirks and leans against the doorframe.

“You also forgot your jacket, by the way,” he adds, turning to reach for it. He takes it off the peg marked _Kaoru_ , shakes it out, and leans over and up to drape it round Kaoru’s shoulders. He should not be startled, he thinks, that Kaoru still radiates warmth in December. He is startled anyway.

Kaoru grins. “You kept it.”

Shuuji twines one loose sleeve round his hand, yanks Kaoru forward.

“Stop talking, Kaoru,” he breathes.

And Kaoru does.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Much of this was inspired by the [DAYS prequel manga](http://indoukaoru.tumblr.com/tagged/the-you-that-never-looks-back), which reon has been painstakingly and lovingly translating. Please read it if you like Indou and Narukami, you will not regret.
> 
> Kaoru's comment about playing soccer under the same blue sky comes from an [official DAYS Twitter Q&A](https://twitter.com/days_anime/status/862608244505800705) (in [the next tweet](https://twitter.com/days_anime/status/862608516569235456), Shuuji says it's okay to say he'll miss him, and Kaoru says he won't, and Shuuji gets mad. for real. i can't with these two)
> 
> thank you for reading and sharing in the love of this tragically empty tag /stares at ao3 with dead eyes  
> you can come talk to me on twitter @nahyutas!


End file.
